


Recovery

by thilia



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-30
Updated: 2010-12-30
Packaged: 2017-10-28 23:50:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/313526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thilia/pseuds/thilia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the war, George feels lost, and Charlie seems to be the only one who understands him. But then he finds solace with someone completely unexpected…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for hp_yule_balls 2010 on LJ.

The soft pattering of the rain against the window was the only sound that broke the silence in the otherwise deathly quiet room. It was a soothing sound, only occasionally broken by the loud grumbling of the thunder. He pressed his forehead against the cool glass, watching the raindrops slide down the window in artistic swirls. The weather matched his mood perfectly, George thought bitterly. It had been raining for the past five days, and he was convinced that it was only because _he_ was gone.

He knew he should make an effort and try to spend some time with his family, let them know he was all right. They worried, and who could blame them? He had barely left his room in the past five days. But he couldn't reassure them and take care of them right now. As much as he wanted his family to be happy that the war was over, that things were going to be all right for them, he couldn't. Because he was not all right. In fact, George doubted that he would ever be all right again.

Fred was gone. His twin; part of himself was just gone, wiped off the face of the Earth, and would never come back. How was George supposed to deal with the loss of his other half? He'd never thought he would ever _have_ to get over the death of his twin. They had never really contemplated death; it had always been clear that they would go together.

But now he was alone. Fred had been taken from him, and George wouldn't get over it as easily as everyone expected him to. It wasn't an option and no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't work up the energy to go downstairs and talk to his family; to begin to heal.

At first there had been knocking at the door; people had wanted to talk to him, comfort him. George didn't let them in. He could feel the worry and sadness radiating off them; and it wasn't as if he was the only one who had lost someone. The rest of the Weasleys had lost Fred as well. But no one could even begin to understand what he was going through.

So he shut them out.

The knock on the door was a harsh sound in the otherwise silent room. George looked up; he knew he should let in the person on the other side of the door, whoever it may be, in, and offer some comforting words. But he couldn't. Not yet, maybe not ever. The pain was still too fresh, the scars too deep.

After another soft, hesitant knock, Georg could hear the footsteps leading away from his room. He couldn't blame them for giving up, and was sure that soon enough, no one would even bother to talk to him anymore.

He heaved a sigh and felt fresh tears prickling in his eyes, threatening to fall. He wondered if they would ever stop.

* * * * *

It took a few more days before he was ready to face the world. He waited until most of his relatives had left the house before he made his way down the stairs and into the kitchen. He stayed by the door when he realised that he was not alone after all, and watched Charlie read the Daily Prophet. His brows were furrowed and he looked deep in thought, and it took a couple of minutes before he looked up, noticing George.

George wanted to say something but didn't know what, so he closed his mouth after opening it dumbly. He glanced down and wasn't even aware that Charlie had got up before strong arms were wrapped around him, pulling him into a hug. George fought the affection at first; it had been days since anyone had touched him but eventually he relaxed and allowed the embrace.

He closed his eyes and slid his arms around his brother, feeling his eyes fill with tears again – but he refused to let them fall. He couldn't believe he still had tears left after crying day and night for over a week.

Charlie didn't let go of him, and George was secretly grateful. He closed his eyes and buried his face in Charlie's neck, clinging to him without even realising it. He felt the tension ease out of him, and for the first time since Fred's death, he felt like he could actually do this; get over this and move on without Fred. As soon as he realised that, guilt washed over him. He felt like he was betraying Fred, and clung harder to Charlie, a soft, breathy sound escaping his lips as he tried not to cry.

"It's okay," Charlie murmured, stroking George's hair soothingly and not saying anything else. George was grateful for that; of all his brothers, Charlie was the only one who seemed to understand him. Not counting Fred, of course. Fred had known him inside out; they hadn't even needed words to know what the other felt. But now that feeling was gone, and he didn't know what Fred thought or felt anymore. There was just… emptiness.

He didn't know how long they had been standing there, but the sky was darkening outside when Charlie finally let go of him, a rough thumb brushing away a stray tear that had rolled down George's cheek. He avoided his brother's eyes, not wanting to see the pity he expected to see there.

"Are you hungry?" Charlie asked softly, and George was thankful that he didn't bother him with questions about how he felt – he didn't know if he could've answered those questions in the first place. Right now, he didn't feel anything but hopelessness, and that wasn’t something he wanted to bother his family with. "Mum's made your favourite. Every day for the past week, actually." Charlie's tone was dry, and when George looked up, a grin tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"I could eat," he said, and was rewarded with a grin from Charlie.

"Good. That way, we can finally have something else tomorrow. I swear, if I see mashed potatoes one more time…"

George laughed tiredly and sat down at the table, watching Charlie heat up the food for him and sit down across from him while he ate. Charlie went back to reading the paper and George was relieved that he didn't have to make conversation. If Charlie had been anyone else, he would've had to say something eventually, but Charlie seemed perfectly content to sit together in silence.

When his stomach was full and warm, George felt a little better and was even confident enough to think that he might, maybe, someday feel good again. It would take a while for him to heal but maybe life without Fred was not entirely impossible.

* * * * *

"I'm going to move back into my flat," George announced a few days later when the whole family was gathered around the dinner table. Molly looked up in surprise and bit her lip, making it obvious that she was not sure that was a good decision. George understood her concern and that she wanted her "little boy" to be closer to her, so she could take care of him, but George needed to get out of the safety of the Burrow and face reality in order to move on.

"I think that's a splendid idea," Arthur said, which earned him a sharp look from Molly. "What? You can't keep him here forever, Molly."

"Oh, that's not what I want," Molly protested, not meeting George's eyes. "I just want him to be sure he's ready before he moves back out. There's no need to hurry."

George hated it when they talked over his head, pretending he wasn't even there. He opened his mouth to defend himself but Charlie did it for him. "I think George is perfectly capable of living on his own," he said. "And it's not like he's moving to a different continent; he'll still be close and can visit anytime, mum."

George looked at him gratefully, returning Charlie's smile. "I will be fine, mum," he said, pouring himself some more pumpkin juice.

"I don't doubt that, George," Molly said but the concern was written plainly across her face. "But you know that you will always have a place here."

"Of course," Georg said, managing a smile. "I know that."

Molly seemed satisfied with that answer, and turned to Harry, asking if he was planning to go back to school. Hermione had convinced Ron to join her for an additional year at Hogwarts, pointing out how important it was to finish their education. Ron hadn't argued, really, and George knew that he mostly just wanted to be with Hermione. He didn't care where they were, as long as they were together.

Harry, however, had not yet told them what he planned to do with his life. And George could understand him. If he was in Harry's place, he wouldn't know either. He would probably just take some time off to figure everything out. He was a little surprised when Harry announced that he was going back with them, and when he saw Ginny's secret smile, he knew _Harry's_ reason for going back.

He pushed his food around on his plate and had suddenly lost his appetite. Everyone was pairing up. Ron and Hermione were an item now, Harry and Ginny, too. Bill and Fleur were married, of course, and even Percy was dating someone.

He glanced up and found Charlie watching him, realising that he wasn't the only one who was single. Charlie was, too. And when Charlie smiled at him, he couldn't help smiling back. He didn't know if Charlie was even aware of it; but he made him feel less alone. And maybe he was clinging to Charlie in a desperate attempt to get better, and maybe that wasn't the right thing to do, but he was sure Charlie understood. He always did.

* * * * *

Seeing his flat again was worse than he'd expected. He'd shared it with Fred; they'd bought it together and had planned to spend the rest of their lives here. Together. Even if they'd gotten married at some point, they wouldn't have been far away from each other. But now Fred was gone, and the flat was empty.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. It wasn't completely empty; Fred's stuff was everywhere. George knew he should probably get rid of it, but instead, he left Fred's room as it was. Maybe someday, he would be ready to throw it all away. But not right now. Not for a long time.

What he did do, though, was open the shop again. He needed to take his mind off of things, and even though the shop was a constant reminder, it also kept him distracted and busy. Charlie often came over to help him out; he wouldn't return to Romania until after Christmas, so it seemed logical for him to work in the shop. Once Charlie was gone, George would need to hire additional help, he knew that, but he wouldn't deal with that until it was absolutely necessary.

George was glad to have Charlie in the shop with him. He always took over when people asked overly personal questions about Fred being gone, and Charlie always knew when to step in and tell them to stop bothering him.

George knew Charlie suffered too. He had lost a brother and many friends and acquaintances as well, but he rarely showed it. Things like that seemed to bounce off of him, but George could tell that he wasn't indifferent. He just had a different way of dealing with his losses than other people.

They spent a lot of time together, occasionally going for a drink after closing up the shop, or just hanging out together in George's flat till late at night. George enjoyed those moments spent with his brother; they had been apart for a long time, with Charlie being abroad all the time, and it was nice to have him back, and not to have to share him with any of his other siblings.

And Charlie seemed to enjoy their time together too; he never complained or said no when George suggested drinks.

But then, in October, Charlie suddenly announced that he had to go back to Romania for a while. He would be back in November but there were things he needed to take care of. "They can't handle that Peruvian Vipertooth without me, you see?" he said with a smirk, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. It was obvious that he didn't want to leave George alone, and George wondered if it was mostly because he was worried that he couldn't cope on his own, or if he'd miss his company.

"And you will be back-"

"In three weeks," Charlie said, nodding. "I'm sorry about the shop; I know you need help but I don't think it will be hard for you to find a replacement for me. When's Verity coming back?" he asked, referring to the shopkeeper, George and Fred had hired a couple of years ago. "And if you hire someone new, they will, of course, need training but you will have to find someone eventually, and if you hire someone now, they'll be fine during the stressful Christmas time."

George knew Charlie was right but some small part of him wanted to pout childishly and ask him not to leave. Charlie was his anchor; George felt like he needed him around in order to be okay. He wasn't going to admit it to anyone but he was scared that all the progress he'd made would be lost once Charlie was gone. "You're right," he said eventually, heaving a sigh. "I'm not sure when or if Verity will be back. After the war, she wanted to spend some time with her family, which is understandable. I haven't heard from her in a while, so maybe I should try to find someone new, at least until she gets back." He sighed, then nodded. "So I guess I'll get started on that tomorrow."

George glanced up. "Another beer?"

"Sure," Charlie grinned.

George grinned back. At least they had this last night together.

A couple of hours and many beers later, George changed his mind. He wasn't okay with Charlie leaving. He needed him, and even though he'd only be gone for three weeks, it felt like an eternity to George. He didn't want to share his big brother with some out-of-control dragon.

"Don't go," George whispered suddenly, his head on Charlie's shoulder. He could feel Charlie's eyes on him but didn't dare look up. He felt pathetic for being whiny and needy but he really did want his brother to stay with him. "Please."

"George," Charlie murmured. "You know I have to. Dragons are serious business and I have to make sure this one doesn't hurt anyone. Like I said – no one else can handle it."

"I don't want you to go back," George repeated, finally looking up and meeting Charlie's eyes. "I need you."

He felt his cheeks colour a little; alcohol always made his tongue loose and he ended up saying things he would've rather kept to himself. But he didn't break the eye contact, and just said again, "Don't go."

Charlie looked at him thoughtfully, then brought the bottle up to his lips, taking another healthy swig. He closed his eyes for a moment and tilted his head back, leaving George to stare at his brother's prominent Adam's apple, watching it bob as he swallowed the mouthful of beer. George bit his lip and felt his heart skip a beat, itching to reach out and touch the small scar on his brother's collarbone.

"You will be okay," Charlie said firmly, and when he said it like that, George almost believed him. He doubted he'd be fine on his own, but when Charlie sounded so convincing, it almost made George want to trust him and be all right for Charlie's sake.

Almost.

"Where did you get that scar?" George said, changing the subject, and brushed his fingertips over Charlie's lips. "Did it hurt?"

"The dragon I just talked about," Charlie replied after thinking for a moment. "So you see; they need me there. But no, it didn't hurt… much."

He looked down at George and grinned, then sucked in a surprised breath when George leaned forward and kissed the scar. George was surprised too; he hadn't planned on doing this at all, and when he pulled back, his cheeks were flushed. Charlie shifted as he looked at him, and when George saw the expression on his brother's broad face, he swallowed hard.

George shocked himself when he realised that he wanted to kiss him again. He needed to be with someone, and he wanted that someone to be Charlie. The comfort his older brother had given him in the past few weeks was all he'd needed. But now he realised that he wanted more, _needed_ more.

George couldn't even remember the last time he had been intimate with another person. It had to have been at school; after they'd left school, he and Fred had been too busy with the shop to really meet other people, or even date.

He didn't know if it was only because he needed to get laid or because he needed this to forget about Fred; what he did know, however, was that he wanted Charlie. He hadn't felt attracted to another man for years, but he wanted his brother. And strangely, the fact that Charlie was his brother didn't bother him all that much.

Charlie was still looking at him with that intense gleam in his eyes, and before George knew what he was doing, he leaned forward again and pressed his lips against his brother's. Charlie seemed to hesitate for a moment, but when George didn't pull back, Charlie wrapped his large hand around the back of his neck and answered the kiss hungrily.

George heard a dull thump when Charlie's half-full bottle landed on the thick carpet and then Charlie's other hand was on his hip, strong fingers digging into his flesh even through the fabric of his clothes.

George deepened the kiss, his teeth grazing Charlie's lips while Charlie's hands roamed all over him and slid under his shirt. A gasp escaped both of them at the first contact of Charlie's warm hands with George's bare skin, and they spent the next few minutes clumsily tearing their clothes off.

Charlie slid on top of him, his broad, muscular body covering George's almost completely. He hissed when Charlie's teeth sank into his neck and he sucked hard on his pulse point, probably leaving a mark. Charlie's cock pressed against his own, and George had never felt anything better. He rubbed up against him frantically, needing release so badly.

"Ah, slowly," he breathed when he felt Charlie's suddenly slick fingers stroking the crack of his arse, gently pressing against the opening. He bit his lip when one of those fingers slid inside while Charlie showered soft kisses all over his neck and face.

A second large finger followed the first one, and George clenched around them unconsciously, drawing them in deeper, needing more. It hurt, yes, but it was the kind of pain he needed right now; the kind of pain that distracted him from everything else and just made him want more.

"You sure?" Charlie murmured when he'd pulled out his fingers and positioned his cock, the slick head teasingly brushing George's entrance. George stared up at him and felt a shiver go through his body at the sight of his brother above him. His hair was messy, the muscles in his arms looked incredible from the effort of holding himself up, and George let out a helpless whimper when he saw how dark Charlie's eyes were.

Yes, he was sure. He had never been more sure about anything before. He nodded and hoped that Charlie wouldn't ask again and just penetrate him. His whole body was aching for it, his nails digging into Charlie's shoulders impatiently, and when he finally thrust inside, George couldn't hold back a hoarse shout.

It only took a few hard thrusts before Charlie had found the perfect angle that made stars appear before George's eyes, and when he kept slamming into him with a force that made George sure he was about to faint, all George could do was lie there and let it happen; he didn't even have the strength to push up against him.

"Close," Charlie hissed after a while, blowing a strand of hair out of his face. Their eyes locked and George arched up against his brother's body when his prostate was stimulated again, harder with every thrust. He wouldn't last long either; whether it was the fact that this was his _brother_ inside of him, or a combination of the booze and the fact that he'd needed this so desperately didn't matter. He reached for his cock, and it took two or three more rough pumps before his hips jerked forward, pulling Charlie even deeper inside before he came all over his chest and stomach. Charlie followed a moment later, and George moaned when he felt Charlie explode inside of him.

The weight of Charlie on top of him after his arms gave in and he collapsed, felt amazing and George found him clinging to the other man desperately. He didn't even realize he was crying until Charlie's hand tangled into his hair and he kissed his jaw lightly, making soft, soothing sounds.

* * * * *

George woke up to a silent, empty flat. He held his head as he sat up, groaning, and when he spotted the many empty beer bottles on the table, he wasn't surprised that he was hung-over. It wasn't the first time in the last few weeks that he'd woken up with such a terrible headache; he really had to remember to drink water before he went to bed next time.

He looked around to make sure that Charlie was really gone, and sighed. He noticed the blanket that was draped over him on the couch, and had to smile. Charlie always made sure he was okay.

When he sat up further and pushed away the blanket to get up, he grimaced at the sticky mess on his stomach; he desperately needed a shower. And then he needed to hire someone for the shop. He couldn't hold back a groan; that was not something he looked forward to.

Even before his shower, he sent an advert to the _Daily Prophet_ , hoping that he would find a suitable candidate. He didn't like delegating or trusting people with something this important. But since everyone else in his family either had a job or was back at Hogwarts, there was no other way.

With a heavy sigh, he disappeared into the bathroom, bracing himself for another long, hard day.

* * * * *

George hated interviews. He decided that the moment he figured out that the first candidate who'd walked in had no sense of humour whatsoever. He didn't even crack a smile while trying to apply for a job at a joke shop. George had to kindly tell him not to come back. The second person was, if possible, even worse, as were the ones after that.

George almost wanted to cancel the last interview for that day; it seemed hopeless. But the idea of possibly having to spend _another_ day interviewing made him stay. He sat down and poured himself some tea, rubbing his face tiredly.

He looked up when he heard the door open, and his eyebrows shot up when a young blond man walked in. A young man he recognized as Draco Malfoy.

Swallowing hard, George stared at him for a moment, then got up angrily. "What the hell are you doing in my shop, Malfoy?" he asked uncharacteristically loudly, eyes fixed on the boy, hand hovering over his wand, should he need to defend himself.

Malfoy raised his hands instantly but couldn't seem to get the glare off his face. "I don't have a wand," he said tightly. "No reason to shove yours into my face."

George eyed him suspiciously for a moment. "Accio Malfoy's wand!" he called nonetheless; why would he believe Malfoy? When nothing flew into his hand, however, he relaxed and slid his own wand back into his pocket. "You still haven't answered my question. What are you doing here? If you're here for the job, don't even bother. Do I look like I employ arrogant Death Eaters?"

Malfoy's eyes narrowed a little and he took a few steps towards George. "I'm looking for a job," he said, and George almost laughed when he realised that Malfoy was trying to smile. The expression looked just as wrong on him as it probably felt to Malfoy. George couldn't suppress a snort, and Malfoy glared. "Look, Weasley. No one else will hire me. I know that I'm probably the last person you want to employ, but I thought I'd try my luck anyway. You can torture me all you want; as long as you pay me, I don't give a damn."

He let out a sigh, then dropped his head, and George could tell that the next word wasn't easy for him. "Please." Their eyes met for a second, and something about the look on Malfoy's face made George pause and consider this. "I just… I'm desperate."

George leaned back, watching Malfoy. His clothes weren't as fancy as they used to be, and he looked tired and drawn. George almost couldn't believe that he had this feeling in relation to Malfoy – but he pitied him. And he _had_ said 'please'. Just coming through these doors had to have been hard for Malfoy, so maybe he did deserve a chance. His father was in Azkaban, his mother had left the country; it had been all over the _Daily Prophet_ 's front page.

Maybe he deserved a second chance. And maybe George could give it to him.

"You start tomorrow morning," he said finally. "I want you to be here at nine. I'm going to give you a tour of the shop, and we can try this for a week. If I'm not satisfied with your work, you won't get the job. If you're late, don't even bother coming back. If I hear a complaint from one of the customers, you're gone. I'm giving you this chance, Malfoy, so don't screw it up. And for heaven's sake – smile. People expect to be cheered up when they come in here; they don't want to be depressed when they leave."

Malfoy looked relieved when George was done, and he nodded wordlessly before he turned around to leave. Just before he reached the door, he hesitated and looked over his shoulder. "Thank you," he said, then opened his mouth again to add something but seemed to change his mind.

George stared at the door for a long moment after Malfoy had left, and wondered if he'd just made the biggest mistake of his life.

* * * * *

"You hired _Malfoy_?" his mother all but screamed when George told her about his day that evening at dinner. He went to the Burrow for a warm meal at least once a week, knowing his mother would be worried if he didn't. He had a feeling that this piece of news had just set them back at least three weeks, and judging by the look on her face, she seemed to seriously doubt his sanity.

George couldn't blame her; part of him also wondered if it was a good idea to give the job to Malfoy, but it wasn't as if he had a choice. All the other candidates had been completely inappropriate, and he had a feeling that Malfoy was just desperate enough to take this opportunity seriously. It pissed him off, though, that no one seemed to trust his judgement. His mother was the only one who was freaking out about this, but from the looks on his father's face, George reckoned he wasn't sure this was a good idea either.

"Yes, mum," he said patiently. "This is Draco we're talking about, not Lucius. He may or may not have been a Death Eater, we don't know. His parents are gone; he'll probably starve to death if I don't give him this chance."

Describing Draco as a starving boy who was no older than her second-youngest child seemed to work. Molly's face changed a little; she still didn't look happy but relaxed enough, at least, to sit down and drink a sip of wine. "I still don't like the idea," she said, frowning. "But as long as you know what you're doing…"

"I know what I'm doing," George said immediately, even though he didn't. Not really. But he couldn't handle his mother's worry on top of everything else. "It will be fine. Just trust me. If he fucks this up, I'll fire him."

"Language, George!"

It amused him that his mother seemed more worried about her son's swearing than the fact that a supposed Death Eater was going to work in his shop.

"Any news from Charlie?" George asked, trying to sound casual, and successfully changing the subject.

"Oh, yes," Molly started. "He got that wild dragon under control but might stay a little longer, after all."

' _Great_ ,' George thought, his face darkening immediately. He had been hoping that taming that dragon wouldn't take three weeks; but now Charlie was going to be away even longer. He missed him, and wondered if maybe Charlie was avoiding him. He had to admit that he felt a little uncomfortable at the prospect of seeing Charlie again after their night together; it would probably be awkward. But George had been sure that Charlie wouldn't be bothered by it at all. But maybe he was wrong.

Now he was left worrying about whether or not he would see Charlie again before Christmas and if it would be even more awkward than he'd first expected.

* * * * *

What _was_ slightly awkward was meeting Malfoy in front of the shop the next morning. Malfoy had dressed up a little and looked less tired than the day before. There was a fake smile on his face as he greeted George, which was even more depressing than his scowl the day before.

"You don't need to pretend to like me," George sighed. It was too early in the morning to deal with fake cheerfulness. "Just be nice to the customers."

"Fine." Malfoy's blank expression fell back into place, and oddly, George felt a little better afterwards. He hadn't slept much that night, worrying about Charlie and thinking about Fred. It had been easier to get sleep when Charlie had been here but now that he was gone, George was lucky to get even two hours of sleep a night.

"Right," he said, unlocking the door and leading Malfoy inside. "We open at half past nine," he started after he'd taken off his jacket. "Usually there's not much going on until after two in the afternoon but I still expect you to be available whenever a customer needs you. If they have a question you can't answer, come find me. I will be here too, most of the time, but sometimes I'm in the back, doing inventory or working on new products. If you break something, you'll pay for it. You will wear a name badge – yes, don't argue. Be glad I'm not making you wear a uniform."

He smirked at the displeased look on Malfoy's face, and was impressed when Malfoy hid it within seconds. What he couldn't hide, however, was his curiosity as he took in all the colourful toys and devices on the high shelves, and George felt a little proud that he could impress someone like Malfoy. He doubted that he had much humour in him.

"Where was I? Right. The till is over there; I don't think you'll have problems handling it. If you steal money… don't even bother; there's an alarm on it, so I'll know when you're trying to take something."

Malfoy muttered something under his breath and George raised an eyebrow. "You don't honestly expect me to trust you, do you? I may not know you, but I have no reason to put my trust in you – yet. I am, however, giving you a chance, so use it wisely and don't disappoint me. I may change my bad opinion about you, but only if you deserve it. All right?"

"Yes, _sir_ ," Malfoy said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, but he did look taken aback.

George smirked, then looked around, wondering if he'd forgotten to mention something. He couldn't think of anything else. "Any questions?"

Malfoy seemed to ponder for a moment but shook his head. "I don't have to call you ' _boss_ ', right?" he asked, sneering at the idea.

George snorted and shook his head. "No. Mr Weasley is just fine." He laughed when Malfoy looked as if he'd just bitten into a particularly sour lemon, clearly disliking that even more. George turned around and walked away, hoping Malfoy could handle the shop on his own for a while. He would be watching him, of course; he had to make sure he could trust his new employee before he would _really_ leave him alone for a longer period of time.

* * * * *

As it turned out, Malfoy was a born shopkeeper. He was surprisingly friendly and managed to sell an astounding amount of products in his first week. George was pleased, to say the least. He hadn't expected Malfoy to be able to switch between his sneer and an honest smile in seconds, and he proved to be very convincing when it came to people who weren't sure about buying something. Every single one of them left the shop with a larger bag than they'd initially planned.

Malfoy was the perfect employee. He was always on time and never asked to leave early. He even stayed late to clean up a little, or help George count the money. He wasn't nearly as unfriendly as George had expected, and George soon realised that he could actually have a conversation with him.

The thing that amazed George the most, though, was the fact that Malfoy was great with children. He actually interacted with them, even got down on his knees to ask their opinion about some of the products, and George had an odd, warm sensation in his stomach when he watched Malfoy smile at a little girl or boy. His smile seemed much more genuine than when he talked to an adult – probably because they all shot him worried looks, obviously recognising him from the many times his photo had been in the paper.

There had been one incident on Malfoy's third day when George had had to step up and protect him from a customer who had actually drawn his wand and claimed that his wife had been killed by Draco's father. Whether it was true or not didn't matter to George at that moment; Malfoy's family had surely been responsible for many deaths. But since it hadn't been Draco himself, George saw no reason for the man to be so enraged. He expected his customers to be just as civilised as Draco was.

Malfoy's first week was a complete success, and on Friday evening, George watched him sign a permanent contract. He had a good feeling about this, and even though his mother was worried despite George's confidence, he knew that Malfoy was the help he needed.

"Do you have any plans for tonight?" he found himself asking after Malfoy had signed the document with his scrawling handwriting. George needed to get out of the house, staying in his flat for an entire week on his own hadn't been good for him. And now that Charlie wasn't here to drag his arse out to the pub, George had to take the initiative himself. Besides, now that he and Malfoy were going to work together this closely, it would be best if he got to know him a little. Malfoy didn't reveal much of his true personality, so George was intrigued and wanted to find out how Malfoy was handling his clearly difficult situation.

He wasn't sure they would ever be friends but getting to know each other couldn't be bad for their working relationship.

Malfoy looked surprised when he looked up, so George continued, "We could get a drink. To, you know, celebrate this."

He waved a hand over the contract on the desk, feeling a little awkward when Malfoy fixed him with a stare. George looked back at him and raised an eyebrow in question. Malfoy shrugged. "I was going to meet up with some friends," he said, glancing down briefly, which made George wonder if it was just an excuse. "But sure. A drink would be good."

"Great," George smiled. "Leaky Cauldron?"

Malfoy nodded. "Sure."

* * * * *

If you wanted Draco Malfoy to loosen up, you had to get him drunk, George realised after they'd had a few drinks at the Leaky Cauldron. At first, Malfoy had been stiff and a little unpleasant, and had barely exchanged two words with George. It wasn't easy to break the ice and it had taken George some time before he'd finally found a topic that might make Malfoy open up a little.

"Do you still play Quidditch?" he asked, remembering that Malfoy had been the Slytherin Seeker for a while. Of course he had never had a chance against Harry, the Boy Who Lived to Seek, but he'd not been bad, per se.

Malfoy's face seemed to lighten up a bit but he shook his head. "Not really. I've had other priorities in the past year."

George nodded, chewing on his lip thoughtfully. "So, er, who's your favourite team?"

Malfoy raised a thin blond eyebrow. "The Falmouth Falcons, of course. They've been amazing lately, as you might know. They've always been my favourite team and finally they're beginning to prove that I was right about them all along."

He smirked and took another sip of Firewhiskey. "Who's yours?"

"I prefer other European teams; British Quidditch has been bollocks lately. But I have always had a soft spot for the Wimborne Wasps."

Before he'd even finished his sentence, Malfoy snorted. "No way. They haven't won in _years_. I've always known you had bad taste, considering the way you dress, but I didn't think your bad taste would extend to Quidditch! Honestly… I've always had a little respect for you, considering you're not a bad player, but… the Wimborne Wasps? _Really_?"

Malfoy seemed shocked and amused at the same time, and George couldn't help but grin. He shrugged. "They will win. They will beat the Falmouth Falcons in the next game – wanna bet? And hey! What's wrong with the way I dress?"

He looked down at himself, taking in his worn-out jeans and the brown jumper his mother had knitted him while he'd been living at the Burrow. All right, so maybe he did not follow the latest trends but it wasn't _that_ bad. Was it? One look at Malfoy's face told him that apparently, it was.

"You really want to hear this? All right, then, you asked for it." Malfoy smirked and pushed the sleeves of his shirt up, and George couldn't help but note that there was no trace of a Dark Mark on either of his forearms. For some reason, that made him relax. "Your jumper looks like something not even my great aunt would've worn – and she had terribly bad taste. And don't even get me started on those trousers because–"

"All right, all right," George interrupted, laughing and not taking a word Malfoy said seriously. So what if his clothes weren't fashionable; as long as he was comfortable, he really didn't care what anyone else thought, especially Malfoy. "So, do you? Want to bet?" he asked, steering the conversation back towards Quidditch; it seemed a safe topic, for now. "Because the Wasps will _so_ kick the Falcons' arses."

Malfoy protested loudly, and waved his hands agitatedly while he listed all the reasons why the Falcons would _not_ lose. The more he drank, the more talkative he got, and to his surprise, George found himself actually enjoying Malfoy's company. One drink turned into more, and soon they were giggling like teenagers while the bartender gave them warning looks.

They were the last ones to leave the pub that night, and went back the next evening. Drinks after work became a ritual for them in the following weeks, even though they both always showed up with a bad hangover the next morning. But even terrible headaches didn't seem to be a good enough reason to stop going to the Leaky Cauldron every second night – and later, every day.

Every day, George discovered new things about Draco Malfoy. One day, Molly had baked cupcakes which George had taken to work, sharing them with Malfoy. Because Malfoy had been particularly surly that day, George had thrown a banana cupcake at him which had smacked Malfoy straight in the face. Then he had sputtered and tried to get it off his face while George had doubled over laughing, but had soon stopped when a chocolate cream one seemed to come out of nowhere and straight into _his_ face.

After George had recovered from the first shock, he'd looked into Malfoy's grinning face, at a loss for words. But Malfoy had just shrugged. "You deserved that. Although I do have to say that it's a perfectly good waste of a cupcake. Especially considering it's my favourite and it was the last one."

And that was how George found out that Draco Malfoy liked chocolate. The next day, he learned that Malfoy hated coffee and only drank his tea with milk, which had prompted George to let out obscene gagging noises; he preferred tea with lemon.

It didn't take long until they were on a first-name basis and discussed business matters as if they were partners, not employer and employee. Draco had surprisingly good ideas for new products, and when they brainstormed together, George found himself scribbling eagerly into his notebook so as to not miss any of Draco's suggestions.

While their conversations had been about trivial things like the weather and Quidditch at first, they soon talked about more serious things. Slowly, George found out bits and pieces about Draco's life that weren't easy for him to talk about. And after he'd pressed for more once, and Draco had ended up storming out of the Leaky Cauldron in a rage, George had learned to let him open up in his own time. He would share whatever he wanted George to know, and _when_ he wanted him to know. There was no point in asking Draco to reveal more than he was willing to; it would only upset him.

* * * * *

"Charlie might be gone for another couple of months," Molly said one night at dinner, loading George's plate with steak and mashed potatoes. She added beans, ignoring the look George shot her; he wasn't fond of vegetables. "He will be back by Christmas, though."

George nodded; for some reason, it didn't bother him as much as it would've a few weeks ago. He was doing great. If he wanted company, he visited his family or asked Malfoy out for a drink, and sometimes, he even enjoyed being alone in his flat.

He took a bite of mashed potato and hummed happily; his mother was still the best cook in the world.

"So how are things going with the Malfoy boy?" Molly asked carefully, acting as if she wasn't curious. She failed miserably; she had always been nosy, and was bad at covering it up.

"Good," George said, nodding. "He's great. He's helping me a lot, so… see? I knew it would be the right choice to hire him."

"Hmm," Molly just said, and George rolled his eyes, wondering what kind of 'hmm' that was. It sounded neither disapproving nor approving, so George wasn't sure what it was supposed to mean. But it didn't matter anyway. He and Draco had become friends and his mother would have to deal with it, whether she wanted to, or not.

* * * * *

When George entered Burrow one cool November night, he was very surprised to come face-to-face with Charlie. His mother hadn't even told him that he was back, so George wasn't prepared for the bear hug his brother pulled him into the moment he opened the door.

"Missed me?" Charlie asked, grinning against George's neck, and George returned the hug warmly.

"I have," he admitted, smiling when they drew back, relieved that things didn't seem awkward between them at all. Even though he hadn't thought about their night together quite as often as he had right after Charlie had left, he had still worried about it occasionally. "So when did you get back? I didn't expect to see you tonight!"

"Mum didn't tell you?" Charlie asked, looking surprised; Molly was terrible at keeping secrets, so this must've either slipped her mind (which was improbable), or she'd wanted to surprise George (which was possible).

"Nope," George said, unable to keep his grin off his face. He was glad to have Charlie back, even though he had been doing great without him lately. He was relieved that he hadn't fallen completely apart after Charlie had left; and he probably had Draco to thank for that.

"Ah, my boys," Molly said as they entered the kitchen, smiling – obviously happy to have Charlie back as well. "Would you set the table please?"

George grimaced and quickly took flight. "I need to use the loo, sorry."

He grinned when Molly threw a towel at him and quickly left the room, making his way to the toilet. Before he could close the door, however, Charlie slipped through it, locked it, then pressed George against the wall and their lips together in a heated kiss. George's initial surprise faded quickly and he kissed Charlie back, his fingers sliding into his brother's hair. He relaxed, letting Charlie pin him to the wall and slide his tongue into his mouth, loving the feel of his hands all over his body. Charlie was so possessive and it was the hottest thing he had ever experienced. He thought again about their night together, and his cock hardened at the prospect that it might happen again tonight…

George kissed him for a moment, then was very surprised when he suddenly found himself drawing back and breaking the kiss, hands pressed against Charlie's muscular chest. "I… I can't," he stuttered, surprised at his own reaction. He wanted this, didn't he? He was hard. He'd been thinking about sex with Charlie a lot in the past few weeks, so why didn't he seize this opportunity and just let it happen?

Because it was wrong, a small part of him screamed, but he knew that wasn't the reason. When Charlie looked at him questioningly, George opened his mouth and was even more surprised at the words that came out. "I'm seeing someone," he blurted out.

Charlie looked at him, licking his lips, and then his eyebrows shot up. "Really? Huh. Wow… sorry."

He took a step back and ran a hand through his hair, looking at George curiously. "Anyone I know? Is it serious? Why didn't you tell me?"

George licked his lips, too, and shook his head. "No, no one you know and… we just started seeing each other, so… Might be serious."

"Right," Charlie said, looking at him thoughtfully. "Too bad." He gave George a small smile, leaning against the door and taking deep breaths. "I was looking forward to this."

George, on the other hand, was stunned. He wasn't aware that he was "seeing someone", so why on earth would he say such a thing when confronted with the opportunity to get laid? Maybe he really was bothered by how wrong it was to be kissing his brother?

"Me too," George said, shaking his head. "But we should stop before this turns into something more. Right? I mean, this is hardly the right thing for two brothers to do. Especially in our parents' toilet."

He grinned a little, then looked at Charlie questioningly, desperately needing him to be okay with this. Charlie just smiled; he seemed fine. "Sure. Yeah, you're probably right. I just thought, since we're both single and it doesn't harm anyone… but since you're seeing someone, the situation has changed."

George nodded, then watched Charlie leave the loo and pressed his head against the cool tiles. He closed his eyes and took a breath, his lips still tingling from Charlie's rough kiss. Then he banged his head against the wall and ran both hands through his hair.

What the hell was _wrong_ with him?

* * * * *

That night, alone in his bed, he figured it out. He had been hard through dinner and the moment he'd stepped into his flat, he had got comfortable on the bed, stroking himself slowly. He pictured Charlie as he tightened his hand around his cock, pulling the foreskin back slowly and brushing his thumb over the sensitive head. A moan escaped him as he imagined Charlie's lips all over his body, trailing up his neck and capturing his lips in a passionate kiss while his hand tightened around his cock…

He gave his dick a little twist, and then came all over his stomach and chest, pumping it furiously. But when his orgasm washed over him, it wasn't blue eyes he was staring into, but grey ones. Draco's eyes.

He sucked in a gasp and sat up, panting heavily as he leaned against the headboard of his bed.

"Oh god," he breathed. " _Fuck_."


	2. Part 2

Even though there was no way Draco could know what was going on in George's head, George felt awkward when he arrived at work the next day. Draco was already there – after working with him for a few months, George had given him the password to get in by Floo – and George only managed a stiff ' _hello_ ', then immediately started avoiding Draco. He went into the back room and poured himself a cup of coffee, just staring at a white piece of paper for what felt like hours. He couldn't focus on his work right now. He had barely slept and all he could think about was the realisation he'd had last night.

He had wanked over Draco. He was clearly attracted to Draco. He might even have _feelings_ for Draco that went beyond sexual attraction.

He was screwed.

Draco had never given him a reason to think he might be interested in him that way. It was so typical of him to fall for someone who would probably never return his feelings. Because as far as he knew, Draco was neither gay nor bisexual. Hadn't he been dating that Pansy Parkinson girl at school? Maybe he even _had_ a girlfriend right now. They hadn't really talked about relationships yet, so George had no way of knowing. Besides, he needed Draco's friendship right now. He wasn't willing to risk losing it, just to find out if Draco wanted him or not.

George took a deep breath and set the now empty coffee cup onto the table, then blinked when he realised he'd been doodling on the piece of paper in front of him. There were a few random swirls – and one that looked suspiciously like a 'D'.

George rolled his eyes and tossed the paper away before getting up and walking through the room for a few minutes, trying to calm down. He couldn't keep ignoring Draco; he was very sensitive and would notice eventually, if he hadn't already, and George wasn't sure he wanted to deal with the questions he would have to face in that case. So he stayed in the room for a few more minutes before he went back out to check on Draco and the shop.

He would get over this. He would. He'd dealt with worse things in his life; he could get over a small, insignificant passing fancy. Couldn't he?

* * * * *

As it turned out, he couldn't get over it. While previously, George had never even really looked at Draco – not consciously anyway – he now found himself watching his every move. Whenever George wasn't busy with a customer or work, his eyes were on Draco, taking in his elegant posture, his long, skilled fingers, his impossibly blond hair, his handsome face that so often seemed to hide honest emotions Sometimes, though, his true feelings managed to shine through and light up his face.

George knew he had to stop watching him; it was distracting him from what he was supposed to be doing, and it was getting rather obvious. Draco had caught him staring at him more than once, and had always given him an odd look that suggested he was worried about George's sanity. Which he maybe should be. Trust George to fall in love with Draco Malfoy, of all people.

One day, he was watching Draco sort the books on one of the shelves when the door of the shop opened and George was roughly pulled out of his reverie by Charlie's booming voice. "Yo, George. I thought I would check on my little brother and see if you needed some help."

George grinned when Charlie came over, then watched Charlie's face darken a little when he spotted Draco. "But I guess you have it all covered."

George glanced at Draco and his eyes lingered a moment too long because just at that moment, Draco bent over and George was faced with his backside, a backside that looked sinfully perfect in trousers. "Yeah, I've got it covered," he said softly, then blinked when Charlie elbowed him in the ribs. "Hey!"

"Sorry," Charlie said dryly. "You just looked like you wanted to crawl into Malfoy's arse there for a moment."

George spluttered, his eyes widening and his treacherous cheeks flushing suspiciously. "I did not! I was just–"

"Checking him out," Charlie said, frowning. "That was obvious, yes. Are you in love with him or something?" His blue eyes widened. "Is he the person you're seeing?"

"No!" George snapped, his voice squeaking suspiciously. He opened his mouth to say something more, then decided against it, grabbed Charlie by the collar and pulled him into the next room; he couldn't risk Draco overhearing this conversation. "I'm not seeing Malfoy," he said firmly when they were alone.

Charlie folded his arms over his chest and looked down at him, "Right. Then who _are_ you seeing?"

George opened his mouth but no random name came to him. Dammit. "No one," he sighed.

Charlie watched him and George knew Charlie would find out about that he fancied Draco. Hell, he already knew. But now that he'd admitted to lying to him when he'd said he was seeing someone, he would have to answer endless questions, and eventually, he would have to confirm that he did have feelings for Draco.

George ran a hand through his hair and sighed when Charlie kept staring. Damn that boy and those intense blue eyes. "Fine, I lied. I wasn't seeing anyone when I told you I was, and I'm still not seeing anyone. And I might be a little attracted to Draco but it's not like I'm going to let this go anywhere, so you can relax and _stop staring at me_."

Charlie grinned and looked satisfied, then looked concerned. "You are fine, though, right? I know I haven't been here for you for a while but… falling in love with Malfoy? Maybe you need help…"

George glared and pushed Charlie's hand away when he touched his cheek. "I'm not in _love_ with him," he lied. "I'm attracted to him. Two different things. And I don't need help, for fuck's sake. He's handsome; there's nothing wrong with being attracted to a good-looking friend of mine."

Charlie raised his hands in defeat and shrugged. "Fine, fine, I'm sorry. I'm not sure I like the idea of the two of you together, though. Just… be careful."

Charlie didn't say anything else but George knew what he was thinking. Charlie thought that if Draco knew about George's feelings for him, he would use that knowledge to his advantage and start manipulating him. But of course he wouldn't really do that. George knew that Draco cared about him – as a friend – and he would never hurt him like that. So all of Charlie's worries were unfounded, and he would be fine.

He just had to fall out of love with Draco. No biggie.

* * * * *

"There's a girl here," Draco said tightly when he entered the back room where George had just come up with the most brilliant idea for a product ever. It would be complicated to make, but if anyone could do it, it would be George. Hopefully, he would finish it before Christmas; it would sell out within a day, he was sure.

He looked up at Draco's words and raised his brows. "So…?"

Draco sighed, and only now did George realise that he seemed uncomfortable. "She says she works here," Draco said, his voice indifferent – but George could tell that the information he'd just received worried him.

"She works here?" George repeated slowly, getting up and following Draco into the main shop. He spotted the girl and his face broke into a grin. "Verity!"

"George!" Verity said back, returning his grin and running over to hug him. "I was worried you'd handed over the shop to someone else when I didn't find you behind the till."

She grinned and George let go of her, smiling. "Nah, you know I'd never do that. But since you weren't here, I had to get help, you know?"

Verity nodded and played with a strand of George's hair. "Well, I just came here to ask if there might be a way for me to get my job back. I know I've been gone for a long time, and since you have someone else now, you might not need me anymore but… I still thought I'd ask."

George glanced at Draco briefly – too briefly to notice the look that crossed the other boy's face a moment later. Draco disappeared a moment later, leaving George and Verity to discuss business matters.

"I think I could use some more help," George said with a smile. "So sure, if you want to work here again, I'd love to have you back. We need a bit of… female… intuition here. Or whatever."

Verity laughed, then hugged George again. "Thank you! And I agree – you definitely need me here."

George grinned. "That's what I said." He winked, then led her into the back room, sitting down and offering her coffee.

After Verity had agreed to come back to work the next day, she turned more serious and touched George's hand. "How are you doing?" she asked softly. "I know about Fred, of course… Are you all right?"

George swallowed hard; he tried avoiding talking about Fred; in his conversations with Draco, Fred had only come up once. "I'm okay," he said finally, nodding. "I miss him, of course. It's not quite the same without him here but… I'm all right. I'm slowly learning to cope without him, you know?"

Verity nodded and gave him a smile. "We all miss him," she said softly, soft fingers brushing over his palm. "If you ever need someone to talk, I'm here, okay?"

George smiled. "I know. Thank you. I'll let you know."

* * * * *

Things got weird in the shop in the following days. While they all had much less work now that Verity was back, the chemistry between them seemed a bit off. Draco seemed jumpy and edgy which caused Verity to become bitchy. George watched them, open-mouthed, as they fought over customers – discreetly, fortunately – but when Draco openly snapped at Verity when she placed a book onto the wrong shelf, George knew he had to step in.

He grabbed Draco and pulled them aside. "What's going on with you? Did Verity do something to offend you? Because it's not like we have a strict system when it comes to the order of the books, so calm down!"

"I can't!" Draco snapped, his cheeks a little flushed as he glared at George.

George raised a brow, at a loss for words. He had no idea what could cause Draco to be so hostile towards Verity; she was a nice girl who usually got along with everyone. It just didn't make any sense. George could feel that this hostility was coming from Draco and that Verity was just trying to defend herself. "Why not? Draco… just talk to me. If she did something, then I'll talk to her, but if you just keep getting this angry every time she makes a minor mistake, there's nothing I can do about it."

Draco sighed and looked away.

"Fine, don't tell me," George said, getting angry. It took a lot to piss him off but Draco's attitude was getting worse every day. And no matter how much George cared about him, he couldn't take this behaviour from an employee. He really didn't want to have to let Draco go, but if this went on…

"I'm going to lose my job, aren't I?" Draco asked finally, his sneer back in place. "Now that you have her, you won't need me anymore. Right?"

George stared at him, flabbergasted. So _that_ was what this was all about. Draco was… jealous?

"Of course not," George started to say but Draco was already shaking his head and walking away.

"I should've known," he called over his shoulder and left a very stunned and confused George.

After that, things got even worse. Draco avoided him and it pissed George off. They didn't go to the pub anymore; after work, Draco went straight home. George knew that he was losing his friend and that sooner or later, Draco would announce that he had another job, and then George would never see him again.

But since Draco wouldn't listen to him, there was nothing George could do. He had to watch as they grew increasingly apart, and that did nothing to improve his mood. Even Verity, who had no idea what was going on, knew that something wasn't right.

George understood that sooner or later the situation would escalate and there was no way of preventing it.

Then Charlie came along and took matters into his hands. Verity had the day off but when Charlie watched George and Draco avoid each other, he could tell that it was making them both miserable.

At the end of the day, George and Draco suddenly found themselves in the back room together, the door locked.

"Talk," Charlie said through the door, the smirk evident in his voice. "Resolve this – whatever it is. You won't get out until you get to the bottom of this. And don't even try to use magic. The door is spelled shut and the charm won't break until you have talked to each other."

With those words, he left, and George stared at the door incredulously, hating Charlie for doing this to him. Draco wasn't even looking at him, and George was pretty sure that they would be trapped in there for the rest of the week – or longer.

Eventually, George gave up on trying to open the door, and sat down, glaring at the table. Minutes, maybe hours, went by and neither of them said a word. They were both stubborn, so this could take a while, even if they _did_ decide to talk to each other.

When Draco had walked around the table for the fifteenth time, George couldn't take it anymore, and finally broke the silence. "Why are you doing this? I thought things between us were fine. Ever since Verity showed up, you've been a right arsehole. I told you I'm not going to fire you – what more can I say?"

Draco wrinkled his nose but kept his mouth shut, and George resisted the urge to slam him against a wall and shake him.

"Is this about something else? Is there something else you're not telling me? Draco? For heaven's sake, just _talk_ to me."

"There is nothing to say," Draco snapped, whirling around to face George. "I can't stand Verity. If you haven't picked up on that, you're slower than I thought."

George narrowed his eyes but took a calming breath, deciding to stay practical. "Why don't you like her?"

"Because she's a silly bint," Draco replied, angrily pushing his hair back. "Her voice makes me grit my teeth, and she's all over you. Don't you see that?"

George stared at him blankly, trying to make sense of Draco's words. He had his own way of thinking, so it wasn't easy, sometimes. "You don't like her because… we're friends? Malfoy, are you jealous or something?"

"Of course I'm not," Draco said, but a light flush crept into his cheeks and he looked away. "Why would I be jealous? I just don't like her and want her gone."

George's eyes narrowed again and he shook his head. "Well, she's not going anywhere. And you're not going anywhere, either. Stop being selfish and deal with it. If you just took a moment and tried to get to know her, you would see that she's great."

Draco snorted. "Easy for you to say; you're shagging her."

At that, George's eyes widened comically and he couldn't help but laugh. "Pardon? I'm _what_?"

"Shagging her," Draco said simply, staring at him. It was obvious that he was convinced he had it right. "That's why you favour her. Don't act like you're not; I know that's the only reason why you took her back. She's the worst shopkeeper in the world. The only reason she's here is so you can stare at her."

George's mouth opened but he was too shocked to say anything for a moment. Draco thought he was sleeping with Verity? And staring at _her_."

"I'm not staring at _her_ , you moron. I'm staring at _you_!"

George had got up and was staring at Draco, breathing heavily. He felt his cheeks heat up when he realised what he'd just said; he hadn't meant to say that at all. Not ever.

The stunned look on Draco's face made him flush even more, and George suddenly realised that they were standing quite close together. He bit his lip and tried to take a step back, but at the same moment, Draco closed the distance between them, grabbed the back of his neck and pressed their lips together. George couldn't do anything but let it happen – not that he would've tried to get away, even if he'd had a choice.

Draco's kiss was insistent and hard, and when George's brain caught up on the fact that Draco was kissing him, it only took him a second to wrap his arms around Draco and answer the kiss hungrily, his hands sliding into that perfect hair he'd been admiring for weeks now.

Draco's tongue worked its way into his mouth and George's stomach fluttered, his knees almost buckling. He leaned against the table for support, and Draco immediately took the hint and pressed him against it, their bodies pressed flush together. George shivered when Draco's hands ran down his sides to grip his hips, and when he felt Draco's erection against his own, he almost came on the spot.

A breathy gasp escaped him when Draco broke the kiss and pressed his lips against his neck, his teeth digging into the sensitive skin while they rubbed against each other helplessly. Knowing that he wouldn't last long, George tangled his fingers further into Draco's soft hair, yanking his head back and kissing him again. It didn't take long for both of them to reach orgasm, and a couple of jerks with their hips made them both moan and come in their pants.

George pressed his face into Draco's neck, breathing him in as he panted, his whole body still on fire as he slowly began to realise what had just happened. But rather than help him relax, even more questions popped into his head.

What did this mean? Did Draco want him too? Had this just been an angry, uncontrolled reaction, or did Draco return his feelings? Questions on questions, and when Draco pushed himself off, turned around and left – the charm had apparently been broken in the meantime – George wondered if they would ever be answered.

His arms gave out and he landed on the hard, uncomfortable table, staring up at the white ceiling.

What had he got himself into?

* * * * *

That night before dinner at the Burrow, Charlie caught him before George could even enter the house. "So you did talk, huh? Everything all right now?" George didn't have the time to answer before Charlie eyed him suspiciously and touched his cheek. "You're flushed." A smirk appeared on his lips and he waggled his eyebrows. "So you _talked_. Was it good?"

George wanted to protest; discussing sex with Charlie seemed weird but then he couldn't keep the grin off his face. "Hell, yeah. We _talked_ all right." He chuckled and ran a hand through his hair, touching his still-hot cheeks. Then he sighed. "But now I'm even more confused."

He looked at Charlie suspiciously. "Did you know this would happen?"

Charlie shrugged. "I had a feeling it might," he admitted. "And you've been miserable for weeks; I couldn't watch anymore. Something had to happen and… I guess it did."

"Yeah," George said, sighing and sitting down on the bench behind the house. "I'm not sure anything's resolved now, though. I mean, yeah. We kissed and sort of came, but I still don't know what he wants from me."

Charlie heaved a heavy sigh, clearly considering his brother the dumbest person in the world. "I think he made it quite clear that he wants you, don't you think?"

George rolled his eyes. "I didn't mean that. But does he want sex? Or does he really want _me_? I don't know anything, Charlie."

Charlie raised a brow and smiled patiently. "Only one way to find out."

* * * * *

George was surprised when he ended up in a Muggle area of London that night after dinner. Draco's flat was in Muggle London. For some reason, he hadn't expected that. On the other hand, Draco probably wanted to be as far away from the Wizarding world as he possibly could be – even months after the war, he still got hateful looks wherever he went.

George checked the address for the thirtieth time that evening, and when he was finally sure that he was in the right place, he took a deep breath and rang the doorbell.

He wasn't sure what he was doing here, or what he expected to find out once he confronted Draco. He didn't know what to say and hadn't prepared at all. But after his brief talk with Charlie, he knew that he had to find out and resolve things between Draco and him once and for all.

When no one answered, he pressed the doorbell again, then couldn't suppress a grin when he got an impatient, "I'm coming!" from the other side of the door. George took a breath and braced himself when the door was pulled open. Draco appeared, wearing only a towel that was wrapped around his waist. His hair was damp, water drops shone on his shoulders, and the words on George's lips died instantly.

He hadn't known what to expect – but he'd definitely thought that Draco would be fully clothed, not just out of the shower. George swallowed hard and felt his hand tighten around the note with Draco's address in his hand, his mouth getting a bit dry.

"Um… hi."

"Hi," Draco said, looking surprised; his free hand immediately went up to cover himself up a bit. Something about that made George smile inwardly; he'd never seen Draco act this self-conscious. "What… are you doing here?"

"We need to talk," George said softly, biting his lip. "Can I come in?"

Draco seemed to hesitate but then relaxed and nodded. "Sure. Let me just put on some clothes."

George bit his tongue when he almost mentioned that he rather enjoyed the view, but he wanted to be able to focus on what he had to say, so he closed his mouth and sat down in the chair Draco waved at before he disappeared in what George assumed was his bedroom.

He looked around curiously; in all the months that he'd lusted over Draco, he hadn't once tried to picture what Draco's place would look like. The living room was large and sparsely decorated, but surprisingly homey and comfortable. George leaned back and took everything in but didn't even have the time to notice all the more personal details before Draco returned, fully dressed.

They looked at each other for a long moment before Draco cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. "Do you want a drink, or…"

"Sure," George said. "Anything."

Draco nodded, then disappeared in what George suspected was the kitchen, and came back sometime later with two cups of tea. He sat them down on the coffee table, then sat down across from George and took a deep breath as he looked at Draco.

George bit his lip, realising that he should've thought about this; he really wasn't sure what to say. "Thanks," he said finally, taking a sip of tea and smiling when he tasted the lemon and noticed that there was no milk in it. So Draco remembered. For some reason, that warmed his heart a little bit. "So… we need to talk," he repeated. "About… the situation between us, and about what happened earlier."

Draco nodded, and George noticed a little blush creeping up his neck and onto his cheeks. "Right," he said; it was obvious that he was a little uncomfortable and clearly didn't know what to say either.

George decided to just give it a try. "So… I'm not going to fire you. I'm not sure that's really what you're worried about, but if it is... you don't have to worry. I need you in the shop, and as a friend, so Verity being back doesn't change anything between us. Maybe she's all over me – I haven't really noticed but it's possible – but that doesn't mean that I'm into her. I think I've… shown you earlier that I'm really into someone else."

George bit his lip and looked up at Draco who was looking at the floor. He didn't say anything, so George furrowed his brows, wishing once again he could read Draco better. Sometimes, it was really hard to figure out what was going on in the other man's head. "Say something?" he tried, getting more nervous with every second of silence. He had a feeling this wasn't going to end well for him.

"It didn't mean anything," Draco said finally, and George's heart sank. He couldn't tell if Draco was telling the truth or not. George had just risked making a complete fool out of himself, so Draco wouldn't have to be embarrassed about feeling the same. On the other hand, Draco Malfoy worked in mysterious ways, so there was no way of telling if he was uncomfortable because he didn't return George's feelings, or if he was just afraid of admitting his feelings.

"How can you say that?" George asked, trying to understand this. "You kissed _me_. You initiated it. How can you say it didn't mean anything?"

"Because it didn't. Okay?" Draco looked up, his face expressionless. "You're not going to fire me – okay. Thank you. And I hope we can still be friends. But it didn't mean anything. And… I think you should go now. I have plans."

George stared at him, then stood up and nodded. He didn't want to stay any longer when he obviously wasn't wanted. "All right, I…" He trailed off, then nodded. "Thank you for… telling me. Bye."

He took a breath, then left quickly before Draco could say anything else. He felt worse than ever.

* * * * *

Christmas was just around the corner and the shop was busier than ever, but George couldn't make himself go to work. He had been spending the last few days in bed, moping and pitying himself. He knew that he would have to leave the house eventually, but Verity (and Draco) seemed to have everything under control, so he saw no reason to go to work. He was avoiding Draco, and it was very obvious, but he just couldn't make himself get up.

On Christmas Eve, he finally did get out of bed, showered and got dressed. Then he reluctantly went to the Burrow because his mother would never forgive him if he missed her famous Christmas dinner. The whole family would be there and there was no reason for George to miss it. He could be sick, dying, actually, and Molly would still expect him to be there.

No one seemed to notice that he was uncharacteristically quiet. Everyone was busy listening to Ron, Hermione, Harry, and Ginny talking about what Hogwarts was like now while Charlie entertained the rest of the family with stories about his beloved dragons. George had never felt more alone, and for the first time in weeks, he found himself really missing Fred. With Fred here, he would be okay; he wouldn't feel like an outsider.

After a while, he left the house to get some fresh air. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath as he leaned against the building and wondered when he would be able to go home again. The idea of spending Christmas Eve alone in his bed wasn't a promising one but he didn't feel like interacting with the whole family right now.

"George." A soft voice pulled him from his thoughts and he opened his eyes, which widened when he saw Draco standing in front of him. He was the last person in the world George would've expected to see now, and he found himself rubbing his eyes to make sure he wasn't imagining Draco.

But even after he'd pinched himself, Draco was still there, looking beautiful and almost like a ghost in the pale moonlight. "What are you doing here?" George asked not unkindly, just… surprised.

Draco shifted from one foot to the other and ran a hand through his hair. "I know you probably don't want me here, considering you've been going out of your way to ignore me lately. But I had to see you." He reached into his long coat and pulled out a small, gift-wrapped box, handing it to George. "And I wanted to give you this."

George accepted the present and looked at it blankly, not knowing what to say. He looked up at Draco again in time to see him sigh and shift uncomfortably. "Look," Draco said then, taking a deep breath. "You may have noticed that I'm not good with all that insufferably cheesy romance stuff and that I don't like talking about my feelings. So enjoy this because you won't hear me be this open very often. Okay?"

George managed a brief nod and looked at him attentively.

Another deep breath, then Draco went on, "I like you. I like you as more than a friend – yes, I lied – because I hated that you just showed up and made me talk. It was embarrassing, Weasley, I hope you're aware of that. Anyway, I… I lied. Because I'm not good at this. I don't have much experience when it comes to… love, or whatever this is. I tried to fight this; I thought I would get over this. But I didn't. The past few days have been hell for me because I haven't been able to focus on anything except you. I hate you for doing this to me, just so you know. But what I'm trying to say here is…" He trailed off and looked at him. "I like you. And if you're interested, then I would like to… give this a try. Whatever that means."

He bit his lip, and George stared at him, trying to process what he'd heard. He couldn't remember Draco ever saying that much in the whole time they'd known each other. He looked back down at the present in his hands, then heard Draco say, "Well, open it."

George hesitantly began to unwrap the exquisitely wrapped box – it was almost too beautiful to open – and frowned curiously. It was a notebook. "I've been working on that for years," Draco told him, obviously noticing George's confused look. "I started it in my first year at Hogwarts, writing down all sorts of prank ideas when I was bored – and I was bored a lot. I'd never planned on showing it to anyone but working in the shop has made me realise that some of them would be perfect for Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes. So… it's yours. You can use it, and… yes. It's yours."

Browsing through the book made George realise that he hadn't been wrong about Draco; he was perfect for his shop – and him. He closed the book, touching the bindings almost affectionately before he carefully slid it into the pocket of his coat, and finally looked up at Draco. "Thank you," he managed, touched that Draco would give him something this precious. He knew Draco had put a lot of work into it; it had many pages, filled with amazing pranks. And he also knew that talking about his feelings wasn't easy for Draco, so he chose his words carefully before he responded.

"We have time," he said quietly. "We don't have to rush into this. We can take our time and… get to know each other better, and then we can take it to the next level. I'm grateful that you decided to be honest with me; I know that wasn't easy for you."

He took a few steps closer, closing the distance between them. Draco looked uncomfortable and rolled his eyes. "No need to get all soft on me, Weasley."

George grinned; he couldn't help it. "Hey, you're the one who got soft first."

"I didn't," Draco said, sticking his nose in the air just a little. "I'm always extremely manly, no matter what I say."

George grinned. "Whatever, Malfoy," he said, then finally leaned forward and brushed his lips over Draco's in a soft kiss, his eyes fluttering closed. This time, neither of them fought the kiss, and both of them deepened it immediately, arms sliding around each other.

"It's kind of nice," Draco murmured between kisses, "to know that I will have someone to kiss at midnight on New Year's Eve. Even if it's a Weasley."

George laughed and kissed him harder, murmuring, "Shut up. You've always had a soft spot for us, admit it."

He smiled against the other boy's lips and had to admit that Draco was right. It _was_ nice to know that he wouldn't be alone anymore.

* * * * *

 **Epilogue;**

Slick bodies moved against each other, hands desperately trying to reach every inch of bare skin while soft moans and gasps filled the silence of the room. Draco's tongue connected a few of the freckles on George's shoulder with gentle licks, then he bit his neck, a hoarse cry escaping his mouth as he came buried deep inside George. Long, elegant fingers wrapped around George's cock and gave him those few last strokes he needed before he, too, came all over his stomach and chest, thrusting up helplessly against the boy above him.

Draco collapsed on the bed next to him, panting heavily, and George immediately wrapped himself around him, his body shaking from the exertion. He brushed a soft kiss against Draco's jaw and closed his eyes, the tip of his nose rubbing against Draco's slightly sweaty skin.

They lay there like that for a long moment, slowly catching their breaths, until George finally rolled over to pick up his watch from the bedside table. "Five minutes past midnight," he murmured, moving back to snuggle into Draco's side, stroking his flat stomach with the tips of his fingers. "We missed it."

Draco snorted and turned his head, looking down at him with a look so intense it made George's whole body tingle. "I don't bloody care," he murmured. "But Happy New Year, Weasley."

George smiled and shifted to kiss Draco's lips lightly, feeling their corners hitch upwards just a little. "Happy New Year, Draco," he whispered, feeling sleep wash over him, and hoping that the coming year really would be as mind-blowingly fantastic as his New Year's Eve had been.


End file.
